Outlaw and Lady
by RiiJoy
Summary: After five years away on Crusade, Robert of Locksley returns to England to find that Marian has been betrothed and wed to the sheriff's son. She has suffered his abuse for several years, but finds her fate changed when her past lover, "Robin", at last returns.
1. Hello the Road

**Chapter 1: Hello the Road**  
 **Words: 3,805**

 _It wasn't an entirely unusual occurrence for Marian to come visit him at Huntington. Robin knew that his father loathed her visits, claiming that rumors would spread, while his mother had always enjoyed the times when Marian would come. For almost four years, she had been arriving at Huntington Hall as she pleased, always accompanied by one of the women who worked in her father's manor. Typically, Joan would enjoy a meal and gossip in the kitchens; it was a small holiday from her usual work._

 _On that day, Robin was surprised to find a rather wild looking Marian waiting for him. Her dark hair had come loose of her braid and was in a flurry all around her face, obviously windblown. There was mud splattered on the hem of her dress, and she was still catching her breath. From the appearance of things, she had ridden her horse nearly into the ground to get there._

" _Marian? Is something wrong?" He noted that Joan was not with her and she was quite alone._

" _I hope you're not busy, because I need to—" She broke off, clenching her fists. She exhaled before continuing. "I need to release some anger. Can we go somewhere?"_

 _Robin was familiar with Marian's moods, and knew what she needed. "Of course. Wait here." Within a few minutes he had ducked inside the kitchen and collected a satchel with fresh apples, cheese, and few meat pies. He hadn't missed the looks the women there had given him. They didn't say it, but he knew that people were beginning to regard his time with Marian as inappropriate. They had reached an age (she at fifteen and he at seventeen) where spending time together outside of social requirement could be considered unacceptable. He wasn't unaware of it, but he chose to ignore it._

 _With a gesture for Marian to follow, he left the hall by the back door with his friend close behind him. Huntington was situated near to a small woods. England had deep, old forests as well, but the small woods near Huntington Hall was much safer and closer. He and Marian had spent many hours in this woods. Now, it welcomed them back into its cool and quiet cover. The colorful leaves of autumn crunched underfoot, and there was slight chill in the air. Once they were far enough in that the world outside could be neither seen nor heard, the pair of them sat against separate trees, facing each other._

" _Did something happen?" he asked, breaking the silence._

 _She began working her fingers through her hair, setting it free of her braid entirely. "The sheriff and his son came calling on my father." Her fingers went through her hair one last time before she shook it free entirely. "I've never liked his son, as you know."_

 _Robin nodded. They had been through a few disputes with the sheriff's son, Edward, before. He was an entirely rude young man without any noticeable good qualities to offer._

 _Marian looked uncomfortable, upset by what she was trying to say. "He told me today that he planned on marrying me." Her fists clenched, and she shook her head, rejecting the thought of it. "Once you're old enough, he said. I told him I wouldn't. I told him I didn't… want to. I was close to raising my voice, but my father would have heard. I was so angry, Robin. I wanted to hit him, but I knew I couldn't. So I left."_

 _Robin couldn't express his thoughts. He didn't know how to express them. "He's a filthy bastard." His voice was low, in an attempt to mask over the emotions underneath. In one aspect, his father had good intuition. He might disagree on the opinion that he shouldn't be seeing Marian alone, but the rumors that he seemed to suspect wouldn't be unfounded. Robin would be a fool if he didn't notice Marian for the beautiful girl that she was, and the thought of Edward saying those things to her made him feel sick._

 _Suddenly, he realized the implications of what Marian had told him and felt a panic rising within him. "Wait, was that the reason for the visit? Did your father make an agreement with the sheriff?" His stomach turned at the thought._

" _No, but I think he made his intentions clear enough." It was quiet for a while and then Marian slammed one fist into the bark of the next tree over._

 _Robin got up, taking her injured hand in his. One side of her palm was scratched and bleeding. "Don't hurt yourself over this. It's not worth it."_

" _Not worth it?" She jerked her hand away from him. "Did you not hear me? Just before I ran, he told me it didn't matter if I wanted to be his wife or not, because I'm going to_ belong _to him!" She stood up, turning away and then whirling to face him again. "It's worth it to me, because I don't want to belong to Edward, but I don't have that choice. I don't get to choose, and I hate it! I can't choose to visit you, and I don't get to choose how to spend the rest of my life."_

" _I know. Forgive me. I didn't mean that what happened doesn't matter." He stayed where he was, looking at his distressed friend, unsure how to console her. She paced for a few moments, before he spoke again. "What would be your choice?"_

 _She stopped and looked at him, before gesturing to the surroundings. "This. You. Peace and quiet where I can feel happy."_

" _I'll keep him away from you, I promise." It was an impulsive promise, perhaps impossible, but he didn't know what else he could say to console her. He stepped closer to her, once again taking her scratched hand between both of his. "But don't hurt yourself, yes?"_

 _They spent the rest of the afternoon in their wooded sanctuary. They talked about calmer topics, ate their meal and threw some of it to an over-curious squirrel. When the sun began fading, Marian returned her hair into a neater braid than the original and Robin tucked the empty satchel into his belt. When they neared the edge of the wood, Marian stopped and turned towards him. "You asked me what I would choose, but I have to wonder if you know that I was serious when I gave you my answer."_

" _I know you were serious," he responded._

 _She smiled. "Are you sure?" Rising slightly onto her toes, she brushed a light kiss against his cheek. "If I could choose, I would choose you."_

 **Seven Years Later**

Marian received the message on a hot afternoon. She and her few servants had been working to change the rushes in the hall of the manor which she shared with her husband. It had been a part of her dowry, and as a child she had once looked forward to becoming like her mother and tending it. The idea of being in charge of something of that importance had excited her, and she'd watched everything her mother had done in anticipation of the day the responsibility would pass on to her.

Now, she found little joy in it, despite that it was the greatest joy in her life. Considering her husband's status as the son of the sheriff, one would think she might lead a life of small luxuries. But the sheriff's greed and ill-temper had been passed on to his son. Marian no longer cherished life in the way she once had, and simple everyday pleasures were her solace. Her life before marriage had been much better; she had spent the first seventeen years of her in happiness.

"My lady Marian," the steward said from the door. "A messenger is here to see you."

She straightened, patting the top of her head to smooth her hair. Her hair was pulled back and braided, with a kerchief tied over it to keep the dust away. She didn't look much like a lady that day, since it was a day of work. Better to keep busy than to keep still with no conversation to turn to. Better to have something else to think of than what would happen when Edward returned home. Despite all these reasons, however, she was still the lady of her manor; its upkeep was her responsibility and one of the few things she could take pride in.

Marian followed the steward out into our small yard, where there was a man still on his mount just inside the gate. A young man in the colors of the Earl of Huntington.

She felt her heart come alive for the first time in months. Once, she had known the earl's son, and it had been a precious friendship. Her relationship with him had eventually evolved into a courtship before he left on Crusade with the king. She had known love and then lost it. She feared letting her mind wander too far into those memories, however, lest she forget how far she was from ever achieving that happiness again

The messenger inclined his head, and which she returned. "Lady Marian, I come bearing invitation to a reception to be held at Huntington Hall, next Saturday evening." The horse lifted his feet, stepping slightly to the side, both man and mount seeming eager to deliver the news and be off. "It will be to honor the return of the Earl's son, Robert of Locksley. What answer might I give to my lord Huntington?"

Marian stared at the messenger, her hand covering her mouth. Fearing what she might say by mistake, she was afraid to answer. Robin was home. Her Robin. He was home, in England again. She hid a growing smile behind her hands, thinking of what it would be like to see him again. She wondered how he might have changed since the last she saw him. What it would feel like when he put his arms around her? He would embrace her, wouldn't he? Marian could still remember their farewell kiss all those years ago. The promises they'd made to each other in the dark had seemed so tangible at the time.

" _I'll wait for you." She grasped his face between her hands, trying to hold on to him for what time they had left. "I'll be here when you get back and we can be together again." She planted a kiss against his bare shoulder before laying there, with her hands about his neck. "I'll wait."_

Her smile faded. Those promises were broken; life's demands had shattered them. She was married to a husband who cared only for the pleasure he could force from her. If she accepted this invitation, not only would Edward go to the reception as well, but he would be furious. She cringed to think of the rage he would show her. Her only choice was clear: She had to reject the invitation. Had Robin sent the invitation personally? Would he be the first to hear the response?

 _Forgive me, Robin. Please forgive me._

She took a quavering breath. "Please tell my lord Earl that I have a prior engagement. I convey my deepest apologies, but welcome his son back to England." Marian looked to her steward. "Take this messenger to our kitchen and see to it that he is fed before his return to Huntington." Tears threatened to overspill, so she hurried to retreat indoors.

As she passed back through her door, she felt more grief and joy than she had thought possible to feel at the same time. Leaning against the wall beside the doorframe, she closed her eyes. She wanted to see him, and yet couldn't. Not yet. She would wait for the right moment, and she would go to welcome him home. The next time Edward left for a few days, perhaps. But for now, Robin was _home,_ and that was enough.

 _Thank you, God. Thank you for bringing him home. Even though I cannot love him as I once did, thank you for his safety._

* * *

By dinner that night, she was composed and acted as usual while she and Edward ate in the daily silence. She couldn't even remember the last time they'd had a real conversation. Glancing up at him over her cup, she tried to appraise his mood, but couldn't read his expression. He was not a large man, her husband. He was only just taller than she was, and dark hair and a beard framed his rather unattractive face. Yet, people feared him. He had his father's reputation to precede him, a cruel heart, and the power to harm those who displeased him. She hated him, and yet it had become her duty to care and look after him.

Edward looked at his wife with a measured gaze. Marian gave him a small nod, continuing her meal, uncomfortable under his scrutiny. She had not told him about Robin's return, and did not plan to. She didn't want him to ruin the happiness it had given her, and she knew that he would if he had the chance. Years ago, Robin had been the only thing to stand between Edward and herself. There had been more than a few angry words between them; and she had been glad at the time. On one particular occasion, Robin had humiliated Edward, and had gained his hatred ever since.

But then Robin had gone and there was no one there to keep him away from her. As a woman, her place in society didn't allow her to refuse easily, and especially not when her father had accepted Edward's bid for her hand.

"Marian," he said suddenly. "Have you heard of Robert of Locksley's return? I heard he's back from crusade."

Inwardly, she sighed. She didn't want to have this conversation. "I did. We were invited to a reception to welcome him home. I declined, thinking that it would not please you," She kept her eyes down, taking a sip of wine while focusing entirely on the action.

"You're _my_ wife, of course it wouldn't please me." His voice was harsh and angry. "You've done right to refuse. That whoreson can have a reception without inviting my wife to join."

Whoreson, indeed. Robin held more rank than Edward and had a fine lady for a mother, God rest her soul.

Marian continued eating, not tasting the food. She wanted to excuse herself, but it was hardly the time. Silence continued until he broke it once more, with an order that made her stomach turn. "Come to my chambers after dinner." He smiled at her, his smirk cruel. There was an unspoken message within his demand, and he knew she understood. His words were smugly possessive, reminding her of his claim to her life.

She only nodded, not wanting to respond.

The meal continued in silence, although Marian hardly ate after that brief and painful conversation. When he set his knife down at last, he stood, saying, "Ready yourself and come to me."

She was obedient, and did as he had asked. She didn't want to, but over the years her spirit had worn away, and she didn't have the fight left that she used to. There had been a time she might have locked the door to her room and refused, but not anymore. Better to accept her fate than have him force himself upon her and be left with angry bruises to punish her for her disobedience. At first, she'd fought and taken his anger; now she only wished for it to end quickly. Taking herself into her room, Marian took down her hair and washed herself. She would suffer this night as she had all the others: With her eyes fixed on the rafters above her husband while she took her mind as far away as she could.

* * *

Robin was waiting in the courtyard when his father's messengers returned. He had been back on English soil for nearly a week, but this would be the first time he'd have the opportunity to hear from Marian. For six years, he had waited. For six years, he had survived on only the memory of her.

He picked Hugh out from the mounted men, and hurried to meet him. "Hugh, what did she say? What was her response?"

Hugh looked at him with poorly concealed pity. "She declined, my lord Robert. She conveys her apologies, but has an engagement she must attend." In a single motion, Hugh dismounted. "I wish I could give you happier news."

"Of course," Robin answered.

Hugh nodded, and then led his horse to the stables, leaving Robin with his thoughts. He knew already of her marriage to the sheriff's son. His nephew, Will, had told him the day following his arrival at Huntington Hall. It had hurt, but he hadn't expected her to wait for him. That would have been a ridiculous expectation. Ridiculous or not, he still wanted to see her. Even if it was a corrupt wish in light of her married state.

He'd already lost her, and he knew that. He'd known as at nineteen as he was carried away aboard one of many crusader ships. He hadn't chosen to leave her behind, but there had been obligations to take care of. His late brother had been determined to go and seek victory and honor. Robin's father had been proud, and without worry for either son had instructed Robin to go as well. It had been a matter of pride, giving him the ability to boast of two sons who had gone to fight for God, king, and country.

To Robin's mind, there was no valor in war and there was nothing to boast about. Almost any man on that battlefield would have agreed with him, and Thomas would have as well if he'd been given the chance. He'd died in gruesome bloodshed, and in the end he'd only wanted to be home.

Robin had only ever longed for home. Now, he breathed it in – the damp air of England. It smelled of green and growing life, where not too long ago there was only the stench of sweat, blood, and dry heat. No more.

He set off with a brisk pace back into Huntington Hall. He was home, and, for him, a woman of his past was a part of that. He would see her. If she had to decline his invitation, then his remaining option was to visit her personally. He could still remember how her hair felt in his fingers, and the softness of her arms. Was it wrong to still feel so strongly towards her?

In honesty, he didn't know.

* * *

A week passed by, and Marian worked through her days, as she had done before. She kept records of the larder, mended her husband's clothing, cared for the few animals. It was an industrious routine; and it took her away as it had for the long years she'd been married to Edward. It would have been a lie to say that her life hadn't been uprooted by the news of Robin's return, but until Edward left the manor for a few days, there wasn't anything that she could do.

On that day, she was outdoors looking at the loose cobblestones of the path leading to the manor with the steward. "Lady, these 'ere are the worst of it," he said pointing to a few cracked stones which were no longer set into the ground in the least.

"Have you tried setting them again?" she asked, hoping for a quick solution.

"Aye, Lady. I did just two weeks past. They've come loose again. 'Tis the break in the stone that's the problem." He ran his fingers over the damage, and Marian nodded in agreement.

With a sigh, she said, "There's no sense in trying fix what's already broken. Replace these, and reset the others." She straightened, resting her hands in the dip of the small of her back. The sun beat down overhead, and she was eager to return indoors, although she doubted that it would keep the sweat from her neck. It was then that she heard the hoof beats on the road, and she closed her eyes for a moment. She had been hoping for a few more hours of relative peace before Edward returned.

Turning towards the road, she lifted a hand to shield her eyes from the sun. It didn't take long to recognize the rider wasn't her husband, but it wasn't until horse and rider stopped outside her gate that she realized who it was.

Robin. He was _there._ She took a few steps forward, but stopped, hesitant. The lines of his face were harsher than before, matured. His shoulders were wider, and he seemed different in the way he carried himself. She didn't know how to respond, and it seemed as though he was just as unsure.

It had been too long. There were things she wanted to say to him, things she wanted him to know. She'd rehearsed them all week, and suddenly the words seemed wrong. Her friend was home, while so many others had died fighting in the holy war. Yet here he was, and she didn't know what to say. He was the one person in her life who had actually listened to her, and suddenly she didn't have the words.

Robin had dismounted, and stood, holding his horse by the reins, returning her gaze. His eyes hadn't changed, she realized; the way he looked at her was the same as before. She wanted to run to him, but she'd broken her promise and knew she'd lost that privilege. But he had been her friend before he'd been her lover.

"Hello the road," she finally said. It was an echo of her first words to him. She'd been an eager nine-year-old waiting by the road to greet her father's important guest. She'd seen them coming, and stood up to wave and shout her greeting. The earl hadn't responded but his son had.

By her gate once more, he responded with a familiar smile, "Hello the manor."

 **Thank you for reading! If you have any thoughts, I'd love to hear them in a review.**


	2. Visiting

**Chapter 2: Visiting  
Words: 3,248**

Robin felt relieved that she'd finally spoken. His eyes glanced quickly around the courtyard and manor behind her, wondering if her husband was home. He couldn't read her expression very well, it seemed to be a mixture of joy and anxiety. The steward who had been speaking with Marian before his unannounced arrival, nodded his welcome and offered to take care of his horse. Thanking him, Robin released the reins and slowly walked the short distance between himself and Marian.

"It's good to see you," he said, in an attempt to find the appropriate words. She was a married woman now. He couldn't hold her close the way he wanted to. He couldn't touch the wisps of dark hair that were floating in the breeze around her face.

"You as well," she replied. "I apologize for not attending the reception. I had wanted to go, but there were… complications." The last word was artfully chosen and her eyes darted away from his as she said it, but Robin pretended not to notice.

"No matter. It's likely better this way. It was a stiff and boring affair, truthfully. I'd rather have not gone myself." He was trying to drop back into their old cadences and conversation styles, but the words sounded wrong. Why was everything so difficult? It was frustrating that he couldn't communicate what he wanted to.

Something must have worked, because he saw a hint of a smile playing around the corners of her mouth. A little bit of the uncomfortable aura slipped away, leaving behind a more amiable atmosphere. "Of course, if I'd gone, you might have seen me in something more becoming than simple homespun." There was a lilt in her voice, and the smile that had been half hidden before came into fuller view. "I might have been an elegant lady after all, but now you'll never know."

"Of course. The graceful mistress of Edwinstowe would have been the envy of every lady present." He felt at ease when she played off his own comments in a similar cheery tone. If it had been five years prior, he would have told her that even in her work clothes, she was magnificent. But it wasn't and could never be again. Instead, he had this, perhaps brief, time with her and he didn't want to let it go to waste.

She looked back at the manor door, and took a few steps back towards it. "Come inside. Please. We don't have much time until Edward returns." Her eyes said much more than her words. There was more emotion behind her invitation; a silent plea for… something.

He realized that he couldn't understand her in the same way that he had before he'd left England. He knew that he'd changed during his time at war. He'd come home different; he might do or say something she wouldn't understand. She was married to someone she'd once hated, but he didn't even know if that had changed. He knew, at least, that she needed something from him. He didn't know what it was, only that whatever she required he would give.

When they stepped inside, she asked him to wait for her at the trestle table and disappeared up the stairs. As Robin took a seat at one of the long benches, he saw another familiar face come through the door, bound for the kitchen judging by the basket of garden produce hanging from her arm. Joan had been Marian's typical escort whenever she'd come to visit him at Huntington, and she had quite a start when she saw him sitting there.

"My lord Robert!" The older woman nearly dropped her basket. "Does my lady know that you've called?"

"She went upstairs for a moment. It's good to see you, Joan." Robin knew she'd always been a silent supporter when others had begun wondering about the correctness of his relationship with Marian.

"Still not one for propriety, I see." The corners of Joan's mouth turned up slightly. "I'm glad. It will do my lady's soul good to have kinder company." Suddenly, her smile diminished. She glanced upstairs for a moment, before coming closer and saying in a hushed tone, "Best not let my lord Edward come home to find you, of course. That would be ill-fated for her, if you take my meaning."

Robin didn't understand entirely. Edward had always been insufferable, but Joan seemed to implying something darker with her words. He wanted to ask her to explain, but he heard quick footsteps on the stairs and turned to see Marian descending. The kerchief was gone from her head she'd washed her face. "I know you had to wait, but I wanted to feel clean."

Joan had already disappeared into the kitchen by the time Marian reached the bottom of the stairs.

Robin shook his head, assuring her that he didn't mind. On the other side of the table, Marian set her elbow on its surface, resting her chin in her hand. In that moment, Robin realized that his memory of her had failed him. Over the years, memory had blurred and been rebuilt and then glossed over again. He'd forgotten how the slight crookedness of her nose added such character to her expression. He'd forgotten the energy of meeting her gaze, especially since she had a habit of never being the first to break eye contact. He'd forgotten how her eyebrows seemed constantly raised in question. How could he have forgotten such simple things?

She'd been his touchstone, although he couldn't tell her. There in the heat and blood, he'd thought of her. Constantly. She'd been his reminder that there was still a bright world beyond the war. He'd tried to commit every detail to memory, but even so… he'd forgotten.

"You look so intense; what are you thinking?" Her voice was inquisitive, yet her eyes were serious.

He couldn't tell her. Instead, he lay both arms on the table and leaned a little towards her, closing part of the gap. With a completely solemn tone and expression, he answered, "Your nose."

Robin laughed as she jerked back and covered her nose with her hand. "Robin, you're ridiculous! Let that story go! It was years ago." Neither of them would forget when he'd once challenged her to climb an elm as high as he had. It had only been a year or two after they'd initially made each other's acquaintance, but Marian hadn't backed down and she'd looked up at her new friend, up so high in that tree, and gone after him. Of course, no one was ever meant to climb a tree in a skirt, and she'd inevitably fallen.

"But it's a _good_ story. There you were, blood rushing from your broken nose, insisting that we shouldn't go find your father." He clearly remembered how adamant she'd been, repeating that if they could just stop the blood, no one would have to know she'd fallen from a tree.

Marian shook her head, laughing with him a little. "It hurt, too. Yet here you are laughing about it. Again."

"I'm not the only one laughing," he pointed out.

She turned away, biting her lip to try and check her own laughter. "You can be so unreasonable." When her laughter subsided, she gave a little happy sigh. "There's been so much I've wanted to tell you these past years. Yet, now I can't think a single thing worth saying first."

"I know." The sentiment was shared. Not a day had passed during his absence that he hadn't wanted to tell her something. There had been good moments mixed with the unfavorable. There had also been moments he never wanted her to know about; unspeakable acts of bloodshed that had left him shaking.

"Marian," he began, thinking of what Joan had told him. "Is Edward…"He trailed off until he found suitable words. "Is he a good husband?"

Her smile vanished in the space of an instant. "Please, let's not speak of it. I'd rather talk of anything else."

He took his cues, and guided the conversation elsewhere. He kept it in the safer territories of past memories and inane things his nephew and their shared friend, Will, had done recently. It wasn't long until the two heard Joan gently clear her throat, accompanied by a reminder that Edward was due home any moment. Marian seemed immediately emptied of the warmth and life she had been filled with moments before. It worried Robin. She didn't want to talk about it, and he wouldn't press her, but it was easy to see that not all was right.

He'd never seen her so closed off or fragile.

* * *

It had been a few days since Robin's unexpected visit. After he'd left, Marian had taken a deep breath and returned to her life with a little more vigor. It was as if the fire she used to feel had been rekindled just a little. She had felt the sparks enough to tell Edward "no" when he requested her to visit him in his chambers that night. She'd paid the consequences and the bruises were still fading, but she'd felt strong.

She had wanted to embrace Robin; desired it. Things were different, though, and they'd met and parted ways without such intimacy. Perhaps next time. She mentally admonished herself for thinking there might be a second visit. It had been daring enough for him to visit her once. Twice would be inviting trouble in with an offer of an illegal dinner of the king's venison.

She scoffed to herself, and Joan gave her a curious look. "My lady?"

They were out in Edwinstowe, baskets of fresh loaves for the villagers in their arms. Her mother had carried a tradition of delivering bread to each family every Saturday. Edwinstowe was small and it was a simple kindness she was glad to continue. The weekend following her mother's death she had begun, and she had yet to miss a delivery.

"It's of no concern, Joan," she replied, dismissing her previous thoughts entirely. "All is well." The two stopped at a slightly lopsided home with the thatched roof showing signs of wear. The gaps were larger than they had been the previous week. "Edwina?" Marian ducked inside the low door, to find the home's occupant sitting in her chair hunched over. Dust motes hung in the air, and the old woman was obviously asleep. Marian took two of her loaves and tucked them into the woman's lap. She had no one else to care for her, and Marian hated to think of her being so alone. She knew that the neighbors looked in on her occasionally, but it still left room for worry.

She and Joan left, allowing old Edwina to continue her sleep in peace. "Your lady mother may have had her doubts at times, my lady, but you have a good heart."

Marian didn't respond, unsure how to receive the compliment.

"I'm sure she'd be proud," Joan continued while she handed out bread to the next grateful family.

Marian smiled, looking down at her feet for a moment as they walked. She thanked her companion and they fell back into the rhythm of their Saturday afternoon. The final stop, as always, was the miller's. It was this mill that provided the very flour within her bread, and as such their family also received two loaves. The miller's son was outside, herding his family's two sows back into their pen. Much would inherit his father's mill, and had been working since he'd been able to help. He was young yet – only fifteen – but Marian thought that he showed great potential. He was a hard worker and always seemed to dedicate himself to any task which came to hand.

Much closed the pen gate, and turned. Upon seeing her, he called out a greeting and smiled warmly. "Hello, Lady Marian. I'll fetch my da for you, if you like."

Marian shook her head. "No need, Much. Although, pass him the message that his flour this week was of fine quality." She held out the loaves. "Have a restful Sabbath."

"Thank you, Lady."

* * *

The road to Locksley was neither a short nor long journey, and rested somewhere in between the two. Robin had delayed going to visit his own lands since returning, spending most of his time in his father's domain. In honesty, he was unfamiliar with Locksley. Before leaving England, he had paid the village and surrounding area little interest. It was his title however, and he couldn't go on ignoring his duties.

His father had been tending to Locksley since his birth and, of course, in his absence. As an earl, it hadn't been a burden to him, but it was time to begin tending to his own small inheritance. When he'd left Huntington Hall that morning, he'd been surprised to hear quick hoofbeats on the road behind him. His nephew, only a few years younger, had given pursuit. Now, Will rode beside him.

"You're far too difficult to catch, Rob."

He and Will had grown up together for the most part. They were family too, of course, but their relationship was much better titled as a friendship. It was Will who had first suggested that he train in archery, when Robin had confessed to growing tired of swordplay. Will had always been a little pompous and vain, and regarded archery as a beautiful and elegant sport. It was backwards thinking; archery was thought of as a weapon for yeomen and peasantry, although Robin thought it was far too powerful a weapon to be underestimated.

Will had been sorely disappointed when Robin had taken his advice and proved himself quite talented with the bow. Their time together at the buttresses had quickly become a slightly unfair competition in Robin's favor. It was a skill he'd honed over the years, and he had led archers in the Holy Land, as well.

Robin grinned to himself as Will caught his breath from his horseback chase. "How was I to know that you wanted to come?"

"By _asking_ , Rob."

Robin didn't respond, and laughed to himself. Will was impossible, sometimes. He was equally a pompous flirt and a young man who wanted adventure and new experiences. When they were younger, Will had followed Robin everywhere, until it had become expected. Yes, he and Marian had been close, but Will had been constant presence. The three of them had shared plenty of childhood adventures, and they were all fond memories.

One of those friends had… moved on, in a sense. Yet, Will remained and Robin was glad of it. Settling back into life in England had not been easy. He still felt out of place. The climate was a welcome change, of course, but it still took some adjustment. While in the Holy Land, he'd spent much of his time with English troops, where they spoke Saxon or Norman French respectively. Both were languages he understood and was accustomed to. Arabic was new, and it had surrounded much of his life abroad, but now that was gone, and replaced with only the languages he'd grown up with.

And the peace. The peace of England was what he was most thankful for. He could wake up to familiar birdsong and not think about the death, illness, and blood that had been his everyday fare. He could string his bow and shoot at the straw buttresses instead of human flesh.

It was all good things, and yet it was sometimes too much. Will didn't understand it, and Robin hadn't truly explained it to him, but his nephew had a way of expressing that Robin needn't worry about being comfortable immediately. Will had lost his father to the Holy War, and Robin still hadn't told him of what it was like to watch his brother slowly die. Will deserved to know, and Robin didn't want to relive the memory long enough to put it into words and offer the appropriate comfort to Thomas's likely still-grieving son.

Above all, he wanted to make it right somehow. Not just to Will, but to Marian as well.

"Will, if you're so keen on my asking you before I make assumptions, I have a question for you." They passed a peddler's cart, the stone of the road crunching beneath the quick pace of the horses' hooves.

Will turned to him, an open expression resting upon his features.

"You know that I saw Marian, but something was wrong." As he spoke, Robin saw his nephew's eyes darken and he dropped his gaze. "You know something," Robin stated.

Will shook his head. "Don't ask me about that."

"You were _here_ , Will," Robin implored. "How can I help her if I don't know what's wrong?"

The two rode in the silence of contemplation for a moment or two. Finally, Will gave a careful response. "I don't like that she's married to Edward any more than you do, Rob. I don't. It's not right, and I know that. But if anyone interferes with that now, it's not going to be a daring rescue. You can't mend what's been destroyed." Will paused again. "It's her life. She can't legally leave him, and if you did anything to Edward that left her a widow, the lands that were hers go directly to the sheriff. A woman's wedding day decides the course of her life. She has nowhere else to go."

Will had always been more conscious of rules; he played by them and was good at playing them to his own advantage. Sometimes Robin couldn't help but be a little irked by it, but it had good points as well. Now though, it wasn't helping anyone, least of all Marian. "I'm _aware,_ Will," he said, a sharp edge underlying his tone. "I'm only worried."

Will looked ahead, sighing in defeat. "At the fair in Nottingham two years past, I saw them together. I've seen them many times, of course, but this was different." Will's grip tightened on his mount's reins slightly. "I didn't hear their conversation, I was too far away, but he hit her. I was going to help, but she saw me and shook her head a little. Only enough that I could see. She didn't _want_ me interfering, Rob."

Robin's jaw tightened, comprehending Will's information. He'd suspected as much from his visit to Edwinstowe, but hadn't wanted to it to be true. It wasn't uncommon for a husband to strike his wife. Robin wasn't pretending otherwise, but that Marian should endure it was unacceptable. He couldn't change society, but if he couldn't help Marian, he didn't know how to forgive himself for leaving her behind to such a fate. Joan had tried to tell him when he'd been leaving Edwinstowe Manor; it had, in no small part, affected his decision to ask Will.

 _When Robin saw Joan exit and quicken her pace for him, he'd reined in his horse. "Joan?"_

" _I shouldn't speak of it," Joan said, looking a little desperate. "He is cruel to her, my lord."_

 _Robin stiffened, feeling suddenly cold. "Cruel? Joan, what does—?"_

 _She shook her head. "I shouldn't say. But her soul is withering, I know it. Please, help her. If you can't do that, at least give her something to take joy in." Joan set her mouth in a thin line. "I've said too much." She stepped back, sparing a final imploring glance behind before disappearing once again into the manor._


	3. Polite and Impolite Conversations

**Chapter 3: Polite and Impolite Conversations**  
 **Words: 3,488**

Slowly, the summer months continued onward. Marian lived under Edward's close eye; now that Robin had returned it seemed that her freedom had much decreased. Her husband now took to inquiring about her daily activities not only to her, but also by asking the servants. It was to his own disadvantage, however, since most of Edwinstowe's staff had known Marian her entire life. Edward had brought none of his own servants, and could find little loyalty among Marian's people. This provided for secrets.

Every once in a great while, when all seemed safe, she and Robin would meet. She told herself repeatedly that it wasn't an affair. Mere conversations didn't make her an adulteress. That they usually were alone together wasn't a crime against anyone except propriety. She found that she didn't care. For part of those rare days, she could feel happy, and she treasured that.

From his second visit, Marian realized that he knew about Edward's abusive nature; the way he treated her was softer somehow. He didn't make mention of it, and she thought that perhaps he wished to spare her needing to speak of it. She was grateful to him; speaking about it wouldn't save her. What saved her were peaceful conversations and laughter and the ability to spend time with someone she could trust.

Meanwhile, Robin had become comfortable in Locksley. He settled into the routine of caring for the tenants, collecting the rents, and seeing to its overall upkeep. Will visited often, sometimes challenging Robin to join him at the archery buttresses where his uncle would neatly defeat him. For a time, the earl pressured his newly returned son to take a wife, but Robin continued to politely inform his father that he didn't feel it was the right time. After a time, the earl set his mouth into a firm line and stopped discussing it altogether.

It was in the heat of August, with harvest time fast approaching, that Robin received a summons to Nottingham Castle from the sheriff. It wasn't often that such a thing occurred, but it was likely about the upcoming taxes which, after being absent for as long as he had, were likely changed.

Nottingham Castle was fortress built from stone on top of an old cliff face, which most people rightly called Castle Rock. It was imposing structure which issued a challenge to anyone who wished to do the town or the castle occupants' harm. As Robin rode under the portcullis into the castle's lower bailey, a stable boy hurried across the cobblestone to offer his services. It was clear that the high sheriff ran his household with a firm hand; not a single person didn't seem to have a task at hand.

High Sheriff William de Wendenal was not a man Robin particularly liked, and he regarded him in much the same way that he thought of his son, Edward. Unfortunately, de Wendenal had found himself in King Richard's favor before the Lionheart had departed for the Holy Land, and had been appointed among the most powerful officials in England in his absence. The rumor was that de Wendenal's ancestors were the reason for his favor; he was a descendant of one of the original Norman nobles who had sailed to England with William the Conqueror. He was Norman to his core, and Robin had never found himself much attracted to any of the Norman lords, and held his own Saxon heritage as a matter of pride.

A man in the sheriff's livery approached him. "Are you Robert of Locksley?" After receiving affirmation, the man continued. "My lord high sheriff and his son await you in the Great Hall. Shall I escort you?"

"No need. It's by no means a difficult place to find." Indeed, there was hardly any need for guidance. The Great Hall was a large building situated in the center of the middle bailey. In it, the sheriff received most of his guests and hosted many of the castle festivities, including an annual Christmas feast. On days such as this, it was used for the mundane tasks of meeting with local lords such as himself, and passing judgement on local criminals or settling complaints amongst neighbors.

The man nodded and continued about his other business, disappearing into the bustle of the rest of the castle occupants.

Robin couldn't keep the grim expression from his face as he approached the Great Hall. It was enough that he would have an audience with de Wendenal, but with Edward too? He supposed it was only just irony; the fact that Edward was so active in assisting with his father's affairs allowed him to discreetly spend time with Marian.

De Wendenal was seated on the dais with Edward standing casually behind him. There were very few people otherwise in the room, and most of them likely weren't enjoying being there anymore than Robin was. Without an announcement of his arrival, he was able to wait with the others without much notice from anyone. It was his first time seeing Edward since returning to England, and his opinion of him had not improved to say the least. Looking upon him now, Robin's face set into a grimace. He hadn't cared for Edward before when he'd made a habit of harassing Marian, and he felt even more disdain now that Edward had taken on the role of abusive husband.

Unfortunately, Edward was evidently not invested enough in his father's small court and his gaze wandered across the faces of the few gathered until he made eye contact with Robin. It was too late to hide the distaste that had been so obvious in his expression, but Robin hardly cared; it wasn't a secret that they had their disagreements.

Completely interrupting the farmer who had been describing his current problem with cattle thieves, Edward said, "Father, Robert of Locksley arrived."

De Wendenal shooed the farmer away with a motion of his hand. "Locksley, I've been waiting for you."

"I'm patient, my lord sheriff. I believe that this man was already in your audience." It was difficult to keep disapproval from his tone. The farmer gave a small nod of appreciation, which Robin acknowledged in return with a much broader gesture. "I do apologize, but it appears that the sheriff has urgent business to discuss. You have my sympathies with regard to your stolen livestock."

When he met de Wendenal's gaze again, the sheriff was visibly irritated. It had been a calculated decision on Robin's part. He wasn't willing to demean a person already speaking for the sake of social rank or for any other reason. De Wendenal could be angry with him, but he cared little.

Unwilling to bring attention to his own embarrassment in front of the small gathering, de Wendenal continued, "In light of your recent return and the harvest about to come in, you should be aware that Nottinghamshire's taxes have been increased."

"Increased? For what purpose?" He hadn't been blind to the disrepair that Locksley and the rest of the surrounding land had fallen into. Here, he realized, was likely the root of that trouble. "My tenants in Locksley cannot afford an increase; they'll suffer for it."

Many of those in the Great Hall that day were people like those who lived in Locksley, and a murmur of agreement rustled through the onlookers in response to Robin's argument. The sheriff's voice cut through the noise easily, overruling whispers with projected power. "And what will the king do in Jerusalem if your people were given such luxuries? Surely, you wouldn't deny the king his rightful funds for the Holy War?" De Wendenal's elbow was propped on the arm of his chair, and his bearded chin rested in his hand. It was a condescending gesture – as if he thought he were speaking to an upset child. "The Lionheart gave me the authority to make these decisions because he _trusts_ me. If the king puts his trust in me, you can as well."

Behind his father, Edward looked self-satisfied, pleased with the position of power he felt that he had. And, no doubt, pleased with the idea he had secured Marian for himself. Robin didn't enjoy de Wendenal nor his son exerting such superiority. It was then that Robin realized he was unwilling to play the polite role in this exchange.

"I am well aware of your authority in these matters," Robin countered. "I've fought with the king, and I trust his judgement. Although, it would appear that I trust your own judgement less." Turning to the people present, he pointed to a woman at random. "How much can you afford to feed your family right now?"

She looked flustered and wrapped her hands in her apron in her nervousness. "Begging your pardon, my lord, I don't…"

"Can you afford to feed your family three meals every day?"

De Wendenal pounded his fist against his chair's arm. "Enough, Locksley!"

Robin didn't look away from the woman he had addressed. Finally, she shook her head. "Not… usually, my lord."

"So, de Wendenal, it appears that while you're collecting taxes, her family will be even _less_ capable of eating." Robin held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Although, I suppose if we can support the king while he kills innocent people for holding a different religion, it's reason enough for his own subjects to worry about their livelihoods."

The room was silent. De Wendenal was seething, his teeth gritting together. "That's treason, Locksley."

"Is it? I was merely repeating your own words, my lord sheriff." He bowed elaborately, mockingly.

The sheriff's face was turning brighter by the moment. "I would suggest _caution_ , Locksley, before you go too far." After a subtle gesture, several guards drew closer from their previous positions near the walls and door. It was a deliberate threat, and de Wendenal turned a watchful gaze on his guest.

Robin wasn't a complete fool; he knew when he'd said enough. "I expect I'll be seeing your tax man in Locksley next month; I'm sure we'll have a rousing conversation." One last jibe, and he turned for the door.

Perhaps it was too much. Perhaps he'd gone too far. Regardless, he was allowed to exit the hall unhindered, and his horse was brought out promptly. Before he could mount, Edward came striding over and grabbed his horse's reins. "Do you have a problem with my father's politics, Locksley, or are you just being petty?"

Robin wasn't in any mood to speak with Edward, but there wasn't any to avoid it now. "If I wanted to be petty, you would know." There many things he wanted to say, and none that wouldn't implicate Marian and give Edward reason to mistreat her.

"So it _is_ my father's politics! Somehow I'm not surprised that you would take the side of peasants and serfs."

Robin held out a hand for the reins; he wasn't interested in having this conversation and never had been. "I have other business at home."

Edward held the reins away from him for a moment longer. "One last thing. I want you to know that any attention you give _my wife_ will result only in her punishment. Let me assure you that she will pay dearly for it."

The words hard hardly been spoken before Robin's fist collided solidly with Edward's jaw. There had been a rage slowly building itself up since the first time he'd made Edward's pathetic acquaintance. It had grown from irritation with his character to anger with his lack respect for anyone except himself. Now the irksome young man had become a controlling man who mistreated his dearest friend.

Edward laughed under his breath, wiping the blood from lower lip. "You're still just as predictable."

Robin gripped the collar of Edward's shirt. "You have no right—"

"Come now. You know I have _every_ right to do what I want to her. You should learn to control your jealousy."

His fist was already clenched, ready to strike for a second time, but he held back. It was too public. Too many people were there. What's more, they were people who worked for de Wendanal. "Listen to me, you bastard, and listen well." Robin's voice was low and threatening. "I am not interested in what you think a husband's rights are. I did not care that Marian wed; I _care_ that it was to someone like you who abuses his wife without thought. _She_ deserves far better than you." He pulled Edward's collar tighter. "If you continue hurt her, I will bring you to ruin."

With a shove, Robin released him, watching as he stumbled backwards.

"Predictable, just as I said." Edward straightened her doublet with an almost unconcerned air. "I would be careful who you threaten."

Robin mounted his horse, swinging himself onto the somewhat frightened beast's back. "I would offer you the same caution. The crusades are a brutal environment without mercy for anyone." With a flick of the reins he left the bailey for the road, knowing he had made a larger enemy than was wise. He had upset de Wendenal and made a fool of him, and then threatened his son with violence.

And yet he found that he regretted none of it.

* * *

 _Christmastide at Nottingham Castle was, every year, a grand celebration where the landowners and lords from across Nottinghamshire and Yorkshire to the north gathered at the castle for a grand feast. It was not the same as the Royal Court's celebration in London, but Northern England greatly enjoyed its own holiday._

 _Marian had loved Christmas since she was a child, and loved it the same even after growing of age. Despite the cold and danger that winter brought with it, there was Christmas and every year she looked forward to arriving at the Castle and spending the evening in good company and equal cheer. Throughout the afternoon guests had been arriving, Marian's family among them, wrapped in thick cloaks to keep out the cold._

 _Now, music filled the Great Hall which was lined with trestle tables except for the middle where people were dancing. The sheriff was not a well-liked man, but he did know how to host a Christmas dinner. She thought that the small extravagance he showed on these evenings might be his way of keeping the lords' good opinions. If so, she had to admit that it did a good job of it._

 _Her parents distracted by old friends, Marian slipped away to find her own. Skirting the edges of the crowd by the wall, she searched the faces for the ones she knew so well. After making a full circuit around the room without luck, she was getting frustrated. The earl was there, with his wife at his elbow, along with the elder son. Were Robin and Will_ intentionally _avoiding her? Accepting a goblet of wine, she caught the eye of the earl's wife, who, with a few brief words, left her husband's side._

 _"Dearest Marian," she said in greeting. "Happy Christmas to you."_

 _"To you as well, Lady Anne." The Lady Anne had ever treated Marian with the utmost grace, even when she had been a child with ripped skirts chasing after her younger son. There wasn't a woman alive Marian regarded with more respect other than her own mother._

 _"You look like Christmas itself tonight." With a small smile, she leaned forward with a whisper, "My son will be charmed when he sees you."_

 _Marian felt a flush come into her cheeks, and she knew she hadn't had enough wine to form a viable excuse. She felt resplendent that evening in a deep green and silver gown with holly woven through her hair, which she wore down around her shoulders for the occasion. When she'd chosen what to wear, anyone's opinion but her own had not been a part of the decision. But she was satisfied, nonetheless. "I'm pleased you think so. Has your son yet arrived? I haven't seen him."_

 _Lady Anne scanned the Great Hall, her eyes searching. "He is here, although I do not know where."_

 _Marian nodded, taking another sip of wine._

 _"Don't fret over it. He'll show himself soon enough." After pressing Marian's hand between both of hers, she returned to the earl. The music came to an end, and those who had been dancing politely applauded._

 _A hand rested on her shoulder, and Marian spun around, a smile ready. It quickly faded when she saw that the owner of that hand was the sheriff's son. With a jerk of her shoulder, she stepped away. "Edward," she acknowledged._

 _He held out his hand to her. "Dance with me."_

 _"I'm a poor dancer; I'm sure you can find a more talented partner."_

 _Edward did not drop his hand, and gave her a hard look. "It wasn't a request. You know that your father believes a future union between us is to his advantage. I have no objections and neither does my father. It's inevitable." He took the wine from her hand and set it aside, taking her elbow in a controlling grasp._

 _"No. I'm waiting for someone."_

 _His grip tightened painfully on her elbow. "Waiting for who? Locksley?" Edward shook his head, leading her forcefully to the forming lines of dancers. "I don't think so."_

 _Marian saw her father across the room, looking directly at her. She knew what he wanted; he wanted her to cater to the sheriff's son and afford him favor because of the connection. Specifically, he wanted her to agree to dance with Edward, and she knew she had to appease his unspoken demand. She thought about how Lady Anne had said Robin would be "charmed" when he saw her, and suddenly it seemed like a faraway wish. It seemed more likely that she would be affording her father more power, while she would be left powerless._

 _It had been foolish to think otherwise._

 _True to her word, she was a poor dancer and stepped on his toes whenever the dance brought them close enough to do so. Perhaps a few of those instances had not been so accidental, but she was completely apologetic regardless. The pair of them circled each other, weaved among the others, and followed all of the necessary rules of that particular dance. She smiled politely and played her part until the end when they were safely far apart in the separate lines of women and men. He gave a gracious bow and she dipped gracefully in return._

 _Edward's lips parted as if to speak, and she smoothly interrupted, "If you'll excuse me, I'd like to get some fresh air."_

 _"I'll accompany you," he replied immediately._

 _"A peaceful winter night is best enjoyed by oneself, I think. Good evening to you." She swept away before he could speak further to her. One dance was one dance too many. It was nearly time for dinner to be served; steaming plates of food were arriving from the kitchen, carried by liveried servants. As she passed a curtained alcove, a familiar voice quietly called her name._ Finally.

 _Robin pulled her inside, grasping her hand as she reached for the edges of the curtain. "And how was your dance?"_

 _"Painfully forced." It was hard to keep her smile under control after finding him at last. "Where were you?"_

 _"In inescapable conversation with my aging uncle about the king's crusade." His response was apologetic. "I'm sorry."_

 _His available hand, while the other still clasped her hand, came to rest along the soft skin of her cheek. It felt warm in comparison to the cold air from the window they stood next to. The curtain was designed to keep such drafts away from the guests, but it was of little use to them behind its confines._

 _He suddenly noticed the holly in her hair, and stepped back enough to look appreciatively at the rest of her evening wear. "You look…" He paused, searching for a word, "… uncommonly lovely."_

 _An unexpected blush rose all the way to her ears, despite the chill in the air. "You're only noticing now?" she accused, trying to keep him from remarking on her reaction._

 _"I was preoccupied wondering how Edward convinced you to dance, and regretting I hadn't been there to ask you first."_

 _She couldn't have fully explained the warmth that filled her, but it was not unwelcome nor unfamiliar. "I would have stepped on your feet, too," she said with a soft laugh. "Although, not on purpose." Leaning forward, she gently pressed her lips against his. This, too, was not unfamiliar but instead well practiced and comfortable. Their bodies drew closer; Marian rested her hand against his chest where she could feel his heartbeat. His fingers were buried her hair, fingertips light against her scalp as he combed through the deep brown. One of the sprigs of holly came loose and drifted to the stone below._


End file.
